Will (not) work for money

I can definitely tell my life’s story in terms of money. It would be divided in the money I had and the money I didn’t have. But even if I had to go deeper, into character forming, money has played an organic, vital role in my life, equally important as any one’s relationship with a caregiver or an addiction.

The truth is that I despise money. To be more precise, I despise asking for money, working for money or needing the money. I wish I could say there was a natural sense of justice behind this repulsion I feel. And there are wonderful reasons not to like money in general, such as the pretty basic stuff about unequal distribution of wealth, corruption, or how people tend to tie their self-worth to the money wagon.

No. Unfortunately I’m far more selfish than that. My reasons are of a purely aesthetic nature. You see, I dislike whitened teeth, and this is what prospective employees flash like advertising neon signs vibrant enough to beat a power cut in any HR department, hoping to get the chance to fill more meaningless posts with absurd requirements.

This is the so-called “race” that the majority enters with high – and highly vacant – aspirations. And those smart people, with the smart clothes and the smart neon smiles, smartly and magically avoid the allusion of the slave trade, or how slaves historically had (and still have) to show their teeth to prove their worth. Nobody even cares if they’re being sold anymore.